


Don't Mind Either Way

by HoloXam



Series: Holo Aroaces The Line 2021 [2]
Category: Rusty Quill Gaming (Podcast)
Genre: Alcohol, AroAceing the Line (Rusty Quill Gaming), Asexuality Spectrum, Body Worship, Cuddling & Snuggling, Drunken Shenanigans, Episode Related, F/M, Fluff, HOT ZOLF RIGHTS, Nipple Play, No Sex, RQG 27 - In The Navy!, Sex-Indifferent Asexual Character, Sex-Indifferent Sasha Racket, Sex-Indifferent Zolf Smith, Trust
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-02-28
Updated: 2021-02-28
Packaged: 2021-03-12 10:34:30
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,180
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29758332
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/HoloXam/pseuds/HoloXam
Summary: It’s not the first time she’s seen his bare arms, it can’t be; he’s been in various states of undress around her, but mostly while in motion, so he holds out his arm for her, allowing her to push up his sleeve and run her hand over his bicep. As she does so, he finds himself holding his breath.Or: Zolf and Sasha share a moment in Dover.For the prompt:Love-Sex-Experimentation-Dark Green
Relationships: Sasha Racket/Zolf Smith
Series: Holo Aroaces The Line 2021 [2]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/2179176
Comments: 16
Kudos: 35
Collections: AroAceing the Line





	Don't Mind Either Way

**Author's Note:**

> *Waves a little ZolfSasha flag* hello 
> 
> Ace flavour notes: Sasha likes touching, and doesn't necessarily want to be touched. Zolf likes getting turned on, doesn't necessarily care for going beyond heavy petting.

_(Zolf)_

It happens in the lounge at the Naval Academy in Dover, after a rather decent amount of port. 

Hamid went to bed ages ago, and Bertie and Brutor have finally said their goodnights as well, so for now it’s just Zolf and Sasha, and the dwindling port supply.  
They’re in front of the fireplace, Sasha perched on the armrest of Zolf’s chair, gesturing with her glass, giving him a slurred lecture on the intricate details of Commander Barnes’ adamantine sword. 

Zolf’s listening, asking questions here and there, but mainly stuck on enjoying Sasha’s enthusiasm. Her joy is infectious; and her appreciation for all things new, be it train rides or seafood or the open ocean, is incredibly endearing to him, and seeing her open up like this makes him _giddy_ in a way he isn't remotely used to. 

He’s grinning at her, and when she eventually loses her balance, courtesy of the port and a sweeping arm gesture, and slides down into his lap, he instinctively puts an arm around her waist to make sure she doesn't tumble all the way onto the floor. 

“Easy there, darlinʼ,” he says, the term of endearment slipping off his wine-loosened tongue as easily as anything. 

Sasha looks left and right, one hand reaching for, presumably, a dagger to stab whoever pushed her down. Then she looks up at Zolf, blinking at him. 

“Uh. Alright, boss?” she says. 

“I think, uh? Yeah. You comfy?” 

He grins at her, and she grins back, stretching out like a cat in his lap and getting comfortable with her legs hanging over the armrest. 

It’s warm, this close to the fire, and he has long since shed his rain-soaked overcoat and sweater, for now only sitting there in his short sleeved shirt. Sasha’s eyes go to his arm, to the tattoos that peek out under the sleeves, and she extends a curious hand to trace the swirling ink with her fingertip. 

It’s not the first time she’s seen his bare arms, it can’t be; he’s been in various states of undress around her, but mostly while in motion, so he holds out his arm for her, allowing her to push up his sleeve and run her hand over his bicep. 

As she does so, he finds himself holding his breath. 

“These are— these are real nice, Zolf,” she says, tilting her head. “Real good needlework, yeah?”

Zolf swallows, nods. Her fingertips are cool against his skin, rough in a way that makes the touch just that little bit less than gentle, and it feels so very Sasha. It’s overwhelming – or maybe he’s just really drunk. 

That might be the case. 

Sasha seems to sense his hesitance, and turns her head, looking up at him. 

“Alright, Zolf?” she asks, watching him with curious eyes. “Want something to eat? I bet they’ve got, like, more where all that came from. I could sneak down to the kitchen, right, get us some of those horrible little oyster-buggers that almost killed me? You could teach me.” 

He shakes his head.

“No, it’s— I’m good,” he says. “Rather not havetaʼ revive you in this state— or ever, really.”

Her hand comes up to pat him on the cheek. 

“Aw,” she says. “But you would, yeah?” 

Zolf nods. 

“ʼCourse I would.”

He would, given the chance, probably do anything for her. And that's not just the booze talking. 

Sasha seems to sense, if not his thoughts, then his sentiment, and something in her face softens. Her thumb runs over the line of his beard, hand reaching up and pushing a lock of his hair out of his face. She tucks it behind his ear, and then runs a finger down along the shell of his ear, poking at the ring in his earlobe. 

_Oh._

He shivers, instinctively turning his head so she’ll have better access, sucking a breath in through his nose. 

He can _feel_ her eyes flicker from her hand to his face, hesitating like she’s stumbled upon something secret. And who is Sasha if not one to stick her nose in other people’s belongings, just to see if they’ve got some valuables for her to nick? 

She pulls at his earring, her thumb pressing gently at his earlobe. 

Then her fingers go to his jaw, digging into the feel of his beard, mapping out his jawline. 

He bites his lip, and she hesitates again. Their eyes meet, and Zolf thinks they must both be hyper aware of how strange yet _right_ this feels. 

He leans his jaw into her touch, and she digs her fingers into it, touch roaming up his cheek and his brow and back down again, and then, slow and hesitant but _surely_ down along his throat. He swallows, and he knows she can feel that. He’s pretty sure she can feel his raging pulse, too. 

From the base of his throat, her touch follows his collarbone, hand flattening over his shoulder, running down the thickness of his upper arm.  
  


* * *

_(Sasha)_

The skin of Zolf's arm is warm, softer than she expected, and she can feel the swell of his muscles under his skin. He’s _strong._ She must have realised, before, but this is a whole new way of knowing it, not with her eyes or her brain, but really _feeling_ it. 

His head tips forward, forehead leaning heavily against her temple, and she can feel how his fingers twitch at her waist, like he's unsure of how to hold her or something. 

Frowning, she downs the rest of her port and puts the glass down on the floor, so she can cross her arm over her body and put her hand on his at her side. She gives his fingers a squeeze, and he lets out a breath, slumping heavily against her. She curls her fingers around his, feeling the calluses on his fingertips. He squeezes back.

“You good?” she asks.

She can hear the working of his throat as he swallows.

“Yeah,” he says, voice soft and rough, and that’s all the encouragement she needs in order to keep going. 

She runs her other hand back up the thickness of his arm, along his muscular shoulder, and down the front of his chest. His shirt is so tight across the expanse of his chest and stomach, and she can feel the heat radiating off him, just under the straining fabric. She flattens her hand over his chest, absorbing the warmth of him - she can feel his heartbeat in her palm, deep under the fat and muscle of him, and she’s not entirely sure what possesses her to do it, other than the temptation to see his reaction, when she squeezes around the softness, running her thumb over the peak of a nipple that’s poking up against her hand. 

Zolf sucks in another breath, quick and sharp, tightening his grip on her fingers, and Sasha peeks at him out the corner of her eye.

He’s closed his eyes tight, lips pressed together, and she drags her nail over the hardening nipple, delighted to see his eyes fly open again and hear a gasping little sigh spill from his lips. 

She circles her thumb, and watches his eyes lose focus, listens to his panting. She wonders what he’s thinking about - it’s not as if she’s ever caught him looking at her _that_ way, or picked up any cues that he’d be at all interested.

Maybe that’s why she trusts him so much. Maybe that’s why she wants to see him blushing like this.

She runs her hand down the side of him, soft and curved, and finds a sliver of warm skin on his hip where his shirt’s ridden up. She presses her hand to it, squeezing. 

The feel of his skin is wonderful, tempting, but there’s something about the separating layer of his shirt that’s comforting, allowing her to guess the layout of him, to map him with blind hands. She runs her hand along the lower curve of his belly, tucking his shirt back down, and she notices that he’s gone still, holding his breath again.

She gives his fingers another squeeze.

“‘s alright, Zolf. You’re plenty handsome, or whatever.” 

He lets out a desperate laugh, and she turns to look at him, at her work, really, because he looks way different from when she began her exploration. 

He’s flushed, cheeks and neck and maybe further down, breath coming in shallow little shocks that he tries to reign in, pretty as a picture, if she's all honest. 

He averts her gaze, biting his lip. 

Sasha frowns, running her hand up his front, settling her palm on the side of his neck. 

“Hey,” she says.

He turns his eyes to hers obediently, parts his lips.

Is he gonna kiss her? She thinks she wouldn’t mind if he did. But she also doesn’t mind if he doesn’t. 

“‘ey, Sasha,” he says, breathless, blinking at her with a curious look in his eyes. She looks down to his other hand that’s gripping the armrest tightly. 

“Hey,” she says again, rubbing her thumb against the side of his neck. “‘s good. You're really good, Zolf.” 

She runs her hand through his mop of hair and watches him chase her fingers and lean back into her hand as it settles on the back of his skull. It’s cool, really, to have someone so strong completely at her mercy. It’s satisfying in the way picking locks is satisfying; the way he responds to her movements, the cues of sound and the give of his body that let her guess out the steps that will have him fall apart in her hands like a well-oiled mechanism. 

She leans in and gives him a kiss on the cheek, and finally his other hand leaves the armrest and comes up along the back of her arm, settling warm and heavy on the nape of her neck. 

Her position across his lap is getting impractical, so she lets go of his hand and squirms around, pressing a knee down on either side of his hips. Zolf puts his hand on the small of her back, a ghosting touch, and he’s looking up at her with that look in his eyes again, like a question, but she’s not sure what he’s asking of her. _If_ he’s asking anything of her. 

“Y’wanna— like— more’n this?” she asks, putting both of her hands on his shoulders and running them down over his chest again, the tips of her index fingers trailing over his nipples once more. 

Zolf shudders under her, grips her tighter. 

“I— it’s alright,” he says. 

“Cool,” she says, leaning in and pressing her face against his jaw, revelling in the way his beard tickles her nose. She squeezes his nipples between her thumbs and forefingers, drawing a low whine from his throat. Digging her fingers in, she chases that sound, circling her thumbs around those peaks, feeling him shake and shudder under her. 

Keeping one hand on his chest, she runs the other down his side again, around the back of his hip, feeling him arch up against her, his breathing ragged and hot against her ear.

He’s so _solid._

When she presses herself closer, she finds him hard against her crotch instead of the softness of his belly she’d expected, and she leans back and looks down, vaguely surprised by the fact that she’s surprised. 

_Right._

Well pleased with herself, she tilts her head, admiring the outline of Zolf’s cock in his trousers. His arms around her back keeps her secure in his lap, and she leans into his touch, confident that he wouldn’t let her fall. 

She traces a hand around his hip and along the skin over the waistband of his trousers, peeking out from under his shirt.

“You, like, _sure_ you don’t want—? I could— I don’t _mind,_ y’know,” she says, fingers hovering over his belt buckle, eyes dipping up and down between his crotch and his face. 

Zolf leans back, blinking at her. 

He nods, opening and closing his mouth a couple of times.

“Yeah, no,” he says, when he eventually finds his voice. “I’m sure.”

Sasha shrugs, leaning back in and putting her arms around his neck instead. 

“Guess that’s fair,” she says, tucking her chin down on his shoulder. “That’s not really the fun part, anyway.” 

She can feel him sag against her, some built up tension leaving his shoulders and his spine. She leans her head against his jaw. 

“Kinda agree,” he says, breathing in deep. Sasha can feel the ebb and flow of his chest against her ribcage, and she closes her eyes, letting it lull her into some kind of doze. Her ears are trained on their surroundings, but she trusts Zolf to watch her back. Even if he’s had about as much to drink as she’s had. 

“You’re a good one, Zolf,” she yawns, running a lazy hand up the back of his neck and into the short hair at the back of his head. 

He huffs, but she thinks he gets what she means. 

**Author's Note:**

> Thank you so much for reading! 
> 
> If you wanna say hi somewhere else, I'm on tumblr and twitter @ holoxam.


End file.
